Incantation
by Nayuki-Bunny
Summary: Sway, to and fro.


**This is my first Karas fic, so please be gentle with reviewing!**

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One.

Golden light and unfocused eyes.

Vague memories of the past were clouded and hazy, much like one's destiny. And how easily it changed, shifting in the passing seconds of trickling sand. Often she would see him stare off into space, hands tending others still, mind elsewhere, reflected in his searching gaze.

Two.

Like flowers whose luster slowly fades.

Her spirit decayed and she had needed someone to serve the will of her city anew. And she found him, his soul clinging to the last threads of life, and took him with open arms and a sealed promise. But sometimes she wondered if he was too frail, too human. When he hesitated to kill. But she would say nothing.

Three.

The mirror that was frosted over.

He was not sure if he wanted to stay as he was, or go back to the life he had once known; it whispered to him like ghosts of a remembrance. And she watched his hands close in frustration and indecision, but then she blinked and it was gone. He had accepted this duty of his own accord, but…and still she said nothing.

Four.

The house in a world where the sky was pale.

Dangling fish, moving gently with the breeze, spun and glittered with shadows of brightness. And she sat, chin resting on her knees, facing the open as he stood behind her. And unspoken words lingered in midair, but the two of them understood. The world had too much evil to let it float on by unnoticed. So her small hand found his.

Five.

Like the quiet echoes of her mind. 

Thoughts flowed around the two and bound them together. He followed her words then retreated back, weary, to the world of what had been forgotten. But he missed the glances toward him, the traces of worry on her face. She asked nothing more of him and he gave her nothing more. She did not expect…she did not want him to.

Six.

Balance between worlds was delicate.

His emotions were easy to sense, like the way one noted the direction the breeze blew. He was always pensive, tense, but her grip on his hand only tightened. She wanted to tell him that what happened always did for a reason. That she chose him for a reason. That he could save what others tried to destroy. But he let go too easily as the scale tipped dangerously.

Seven.

Red ropes that tightened around and fed into her.

She choked. The world was growing dimmer and laughter surrounded her as she struggled. Her will was breaking. But he would be fighting alone, she was supposed to protect him. He would die without her help. And she struggled harder, she had to find him, tell him…see him again. But she slipped suddenly, hands groping and missing. And she fell into black. 

Eight.

A voice calling to her.

Her eyes slowly opened, light flooding onto her face and making her blink. She saw the broken body through it, and realization hit her as it shifted slightly. She blindly reached forward, straining against the weight holding her back, and broke the surface with determined fingertips in ripples of color. And her hands found him and she cried out in supressed desperation. 

_You must fight_, _Otoha! You must! _

Blood had stained his face, trickling down across vacant eyes and glass shards. She gasped. He had been fighting to protect with no regard for his own life. Had she been too late? But he lifted his face to hers as her voice pleaded, and her heart swelled with- she didn't know- and she leaned forward, feeling his warm breath hovering above her parted lips, her vision blurring and his voice… 

_Yurine._

Nine.

It had disappeared in white sparks and the clang of metal against metal.

And the silent sounds resonate from her seat upon his shoulder as the cool air rushes to her face, her lightly colored hair blowing along with the wind. She had said nothing in the aftermath and he had not asked her anything. But after his spirit had returned to the body lying in her arms, after his attempts had finally come alive, after they had disappeared from prying eyes, he had sunk into unconsciousness. And he had not noticed the foreign teardrop glistening on his cheek. But she had smiled. And his hand closes over hers.

And it is ten. Sway, to and fro. 

Sway. 

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